


Shower before Breakfast

by Red_Seraphim



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-01
Updated: 2012-08-01
Packaged: 2017-11-11 04:05:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/474320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Red_Seraphim/pseuds/Red_Seraphim
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was written for a friend of mine. It helps motivate me to write more. I hope you enjoy it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shower before Breakfast

You are Jake English, and you’re feeling pretty damn jolly this morning. Your eyes popped open and you almost leaped out of bed, but you reminded yourself that you shouldn’t because Dirk was still sleeping beside you. So, instead, you decide to go polish your guns (literal guns, of course, you’re pretty skinny in the arms), and maybe surprise him with some breakfast. You’ve been practicing cooking a little bit, secretly, and you’ve wanted to surprise him with bacon and eggs for almost a whole week now.  
You walk down the stairs to the kitchen, open the fridge and get the eggs and packaged bacon. You get the frying pan from one of the cupboards and starting heating the pan. You consider going to get your guns, but you decide Strider’s breakfast should be your main focus right now. You can get sort of distracted with all of those bloody projects you make for yourself. Better to complete the one at hand.

You are now Dirk Strider and you’re pretty sure you’re awake now. Your eyes stare out at the clock beside you. 9:08. Oh. Kind of early. You slowly move your arm down to feel if Jake is there. Nope. Guess you should get up.  
You find it incredibly difficult to get yourself up in the mornings. Probably because you don’t start out the day with a load of sugar in your blood, but you’re also just generally tired all the time, even after you’ve gotten something to eat.  
But you guess you ought to shower first.

You are now Jake English and can you hear water running? Dirk must be up. You better go up and tell him not to take one of his epically long showers. But before that you should get this food off the pan and on the plate. You (expertly, in your opinion) spatulate the eggs the hell off the pan and then repeat your excellent your performance with the bacon. You set the plate aside and hop-skip your way up the stairs. You tap on the bathroom door with your knuckle.  
“Dirk?” you call. No response. Oh jesus. Must be one of his long showers. You try the knob and it turns. You hate to do it, but you’re not going to let your efforts go to waste.  
“Dirk? I’ve made breakfast,” you say into the steam that flows out as you open the door. Still no response. You look at the shower curtain and reach in and turn off the water. Still nothing.  
You pull back the curtain.

You’re now Dirk Strider and you just heard the shower rings clinking together. You turn to your right. Jake is standing there, eyes shut as tight as you think his muscles can close his eyes, and he says a little louder than necessary, “Dirk Strider, get your ass out of the shower and come eat the breakfast I made for you!”  
You look at him for a second. You’re tempted to either cover up or get him to unclench his eyes, but you just say, “Okay, Jake, I’ll be down in like, two minutes. Keep your shorts on.”  
He promptly turns around and walks straight into the bathroom door he left halfway open, and falls flat on his ass. You step over the tub edge and you put your hand on his shoulder.  
“Dude are you okay?”  
You see his head almost turn and then whip back. “YesyesyesI’mfineI’mgoingnow!” he says way too fast and scrambles out of the bathroom.  
Good god you love his idiocy. You get a towel off the rack and dry off. Did he say he made breakfast? Hell yes, you need some food.

You are now Jake English. God you almost saw Dirk’s...well. You aren’t even going to think about it. You’re just going to polish your guns until he gets down here. My god these things are filthy. You rub them as fast as you can, your hand almost slipping off and landing in the polish. That’d be embarrassing.  
“Jake, where’s food?” you hear Dirk’s voice behind you say. It startles you enough for you to drop your guns and you land your hand squarely in the polish cup as you turn to look at him. You close your eyes because that’s going to take an hour to get off.  
“In the kitchen, sir Strider.”  
“Thank,” he says, wandering slowly toward the kitchen in his t-shirt and a towel draped about his waist. You turn your attention back to the polish cup. God dammit, it’s gotten half on your coat sleeve. That’s...never going to come out, you’re pretty damn sure.  
Great. Just fucking great.  
You hear Dirk’s footsteps (this time) as he walks back to you with an empty plate. “That. Was fucking delicious.”  
You smile a little bit. He really liked it?  
“It was?”  
“Hell yes. What happened to your hand?” he says, pointing with one of his fingers holding the plate.  
“Oh. Well, I was a bit startled when you came up behind me when you came down.”  
“Shit man. Sorry.”  
“It’s fine, really.”  
“Like hell. That’s going to take a special Strider wash in the washer to get out,” Dirk says, indicating the stain on your coat.  
“No, really, you don’t-“ you start, until you realize what he just said. “Wait, you can get this out?”  
He grins. “Sure. Just going to need about two hours,” he says, and he sets down the plate and carefully slides it off you. And now you’re just sitting there in your boxers. Dirk walks off to the laundry room carrying your coat.

You are now Dirk Strider, and you’re feeling more awake now that you’ve eaten something. And a damn good something. It was a little on the plain side, but it certainly was cooked to perfection. You plop in his coat to the washer and grab a tin labeled StriderWash with your shades logo and give a healthy sprinkling into the washer and then turn on the water. That stain doesn’t stand a chance.  
“Thanks Strider,” you hear Jake say from the doorway. You turn and smile at him. “Sure thing man. Now let’s go wash out that stain on your hand.”  
“I can do that,” he says.  
“I know you can. But maybe it can go a little faster with four hands instead of two,” you say, as you think about bumping up against him because he’s sort of awkward as fuck. And hell if you’re not going to exploit it.  
“Well, if you think so.”  
You walk back to the kitchen with him. Get out the Dawn and you squeeze a little into his hands.  
“Okay, rub your hands together vigorously,” you tell him, and he does just that. You get a sponge and get it soapy and then you have him wash his hand and then you use the abrasive edge and scrub the hell out of his hand. You feel him wince and mutter ow but he stays still.  
After you’re done with him, he’s got a clean, albeit very pink and smooth hand.  
“That hurts like the dickens,” he says and he holds it.  
“Yeah, yeah, you big baby,” you mock him slightly, and you take hold of his hand and you kiss his knuckle and let it down. “Better?”  
“Not much,” he looks down at his hand. “Strider?”  
“Yeah?”  
“You’re still holding my hand.”  
“Yep.”  
“You’re not still really tired, right?”  
“Nope. Kiss me you dork,” you say. Well, that sort of slipped out. You’re usually better about just saying that on the fly.  
Except he always does it when you ask, and how can you not give into temptation like that? He closes his eyes, leans forward, and lightly brushes his lips against yours in a kiss. Then he just smiles, and you can feel through your lips and it makes them mirror his.


End file.
